


I can’t die

by LetsLeaveItAtThat



Category: Original Work, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kyo will be okay dw, Quirk Shenanigans (My Hero Academia), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23010559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetsLeaveItAtThat/pseuds/LetsLeaveItAtThat
Summary: Kyo Enaki would really like to be dead, fortunately the universe (and soon a few others) have different plans for him.
Kudos: 3





	1. Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends, this is my first fic and just coated in angst but please stick with it loves. I do not own My Hero Academia (obviously) enjoy the angst.

Kyo Enaki was dangling upside down from a ladder precariously attached to the roof of the UA dorms. If asked he would have told you he was there for the view and he would have been lying, but no one had ever asked before and so it didn’t very much matter. As it happened that seemed like it was about to change, for the door to said roof had just slammed open admitting one, overly loud, teen onto the previously rather peaceful place. 

“What the fuck are you doing dumbass?!”

Of course it’s Bakugou, almost anyone else would likely not have stepped close enough to the edge to see him. Anyone else would probably also have believe what he said next.

“Sightseeing obviously, not much falling would do and it’s quite the view.”

But Bakugou was smart, so he kneeled down and offered a hand.

“Whatever extra, we have to get to bed before Aizawa blows a fucking gasket and I don’t feel like getting lectured.”

Damnit, of course Bakugou wouldn’t let him stay, he’d planned to stay there until midnight to celebrate his anniversary but it seemed he’d had no such luck.

“Fine dude.”

He clambered up the ladder much more carefully than he wanted to, anyone else wouldn’t fault him for slipping, and accepted Bakugou’s help in getting over the ledge.

Now on the roof he considered his options; on the ladder anything seemed possible, secure in a flimsy ruse and lightly disconnected from reality. Now on steady ground and in his slightly less than steady mind there were only two ways to go, a path to certain change and a path to uncertain change, forwards or backwards dealers choice.

He could go forwards, it would be so very easy to march down the stairs, walk straight to his room, to his bed, to his fate. It would be so simple to just let others decide. Would Bakugou tell someone? If so, who and what and for that matter what would that even mean. He could leave it all for someone else to decide until they decided to clue him in. It was so very tempting to let someone else decide if any of it even mattered at all.

Equally tempting was the path that lay behind him, the open air and pavement below so solid, so full of certain change. He could turn on his heel right then, sprint across the roof and then off. Into open air. He remembered one night, one petrifying attempt, when he lost his fear of heights. It was strange how much plummeting feels like flying, like freedom before the abrupt conclusion. He wouldn’t die of course, he never did. There would be pain, for a moment sure, before his nerves shut off to prevent him from going into shock while his quirk mended his shattered corpse. And then... what? And then something he supposed. The terrifying something of making your pain known, of providing everyone with a clearer image of your soul to do with what they will. In many ways backward was like forwards, in both he left his fate in the hands of others, he supposed the link was mainly due to the fact that he couldn’t deal with this on his own, this terrifying will to fall, the question was only of when. To go forwards was to be able to hide, to deny, to continue as he had been, a walking corpse with a broken brain. To go back was to be in the open, to take a leap of faith if you will. Tick tock, time to choose, pick your poison and see if it kills you.

He was a coward. He walked down the stairs and into his fate. 

It was his anniversary. He remembered. Ten minutes. Sheet cake. Salt in the buttercream.

He dreams that he is flying and waiting for his wings to fail.


	2. Salt in buttercream.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A memory.  
> The first failed fall.

It was supposed to be quick, a simple fall, a simple snap. He’d tied the rope properly, he knew he had, he had been practicing. So why? Why was he dangling there, unable to breathe, neck broken but still aware. Why wasn’t he dead?

He supposed it wasn’t important, the only important thing right then was to stop dangling. He had been at it for a few minutes and was finding perpetual and ceaseless respiratory distress to be absolutely horrible. I he had been thinking perhaps he would have been sick at the odd noises his spine was making as he thrashed about, searching with his feet for the desk chair he had used to make the drop in the first place. 

Success.

He stood.

Freed himself.

And sat.

He checked his phone, looking at the stopwatch he had set to make the post mortem easier.

Ten minutes.

Lap.

The next while was a blur.

He stirred out of his daze sitting in a park he didn’t know, with a half eaten grocery store sheet cake perched on his lap and a plastic fork in his hand. He barely remembered buying it, only partially recalling his false smile while saying that it was a birthday cake and an inside joke when asking for the inscription of ‘Congrats you’re not dead’. He raised another forkful up to his mouth, it tasted like salt water and buttercream.

He finished the whole cake.

He checked his phone; two hours, it was midnight, he turned off the stopwatch.

By the light of his phone and the grace of google maps he found his way home.

He left the rope hanging, no one would notice.

He dreamt that he was falling and had missed the ground.

—————————————————————

About a year in the future. At the UA dorms.

Kyo was sleeping, he had failed to stay up until midnight.

In the fridge in the kitchen a sheet cake sits, forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read this work! Feel free to leave a comment of any suggestions you have or if you just want to scream into the void. Be forewarned that the void is listening and may just reply if not asked otherwise (I will be reading the comments and may reply if you don’t ask me not to). Thank you again.   
> -Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you dears for sticking with this mess until the end. I have no beta reader so right now this mostly gal is “dying like men”. I hope y’all have a lovely day. <3


End file.
